


You're not a liar, you're a thief

by smallriots



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallriots/pseuds/smallriots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thieves always had a reason when they stole. Sometimes it was simply for the rush of stealing.</p>
<p>Sometimes it was because they had nothing left of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're not a liar, you're a thief

There is a fine line between genius and madness and Tony Stark never claimed to walk it. He spit and danced and scoffed at it because Norse gods and alien hordes may break his bones but words will never hurt him.

But Loki – Loki never even knew the line was there. 

Tony could see that the moment he entered the room to see the god sprawled across his couch like he owned the place. He was the picture of nonchalance even in his uncomfortable looking Asgardian get up, for all its leather and metal and straps that didn’t quite make sense even for a man with as many PhD’s as Tony Stark. He even held a glass of scotch languidly with his fingertips. It was a nice touch.

But Tony wasn’t fooled.

“Jarvis?” 

There was a pause before the AI answered. “I’m sorry, sir. My sensors didn’t pick up Mr. Laufeyson’s presence until now. I suspect-”

“Magic, right. I don’t suppose he’ll let you set off the alarm?”

“No, sir.”

“I guess it’s the thought that counts.”

“Would you be so rude as to throw out a guest, Stark?” Loki said when he finally spoke up. He rose almost lazily, all the while grinning like the Cheshire cat. Tony wasn’t sure what the point of the show was. To disarm him, maybe. Just seemed a bit unnecessary, what with Tony standing without his suit, his team, nothing. Loki had even robbed his AI of its teeth.

But then again, what was a trickster without his mask?

“You know, it’s funny, but I don’t remember inviting you.” Tony crossed the room to pour his own drink (fuck, was he going to need it) without sparing Loki a second glance until he was finished. Now that was how you did nonchalance. You had to mean it. “Though I hear S.H.I.E.L.D. has a nice cozy cell for you if you need a place to stay. Free of charge.”

Just when it seemed impossible, the god’s smirk widened. “Generous, to be sure. But I’m afraid I have had quite enough of captivity.”

“Yeah, what happened with that? Last time we saw you your brother had you on a pretty short leash.” Chained, muzzled, and trussed up into a pretty little present for the Asgardians. Hell, all he’d been missing was a bow to top it all off, but only because Steve convinced Tony it was a bad idea. 

“I decided freedom was much more to my taste.” Loki took pains not to show it, but it was obvious just the word brother irked him.

“Right, right. Life’s great lie, was it? Sorry, or was that the other megalomaniac god whose ass we kicked who said that?” It wasn’t that they hadn’t expected to see Loki again, they knew better than that. Only they hadn’t anticipated this. Tony hadn’t anticipated this and behind his cool, calm, and sarcastic front he cursed himself. He should have known. That was his job. What had he expected? That Loki would just go around blowing shit up, business as usual? Or maybe that Thor would come bippity boppiting down that rainbow bridge (or whatever the fuck it was) and give them a little warning that his psychotic little bro was on the loose again?

Loki raised his eyebrows. “I am the god of lies, you know.”

Suddenly Tony found himself tired of the game. What did Loki want? To play with him like a cat with a mouse or just talk him to death? He was tired and he was angry, because dammit this was his tower and that was his scotch and Loki had no place near either of them. The memories of shattering glass and the terror of free-fall were too fresh for that. “Yeah, but you’re not a liar, are you?” He spat and came out almost snide - an accusation more than anything. It even came with a jab of his finger because suddenly Tony found himself right there, right up in is face and furious.

But it was true, wasn’t it? No matter what he said or did, the god had never claimed not to be the bad guy – he almost reveled in the fact, if anything. But Tony, what could Tony say? When the nightmares descend and suddenly he’s curled up on a sweat stained cot in some shithole cave in Afghanistan with a car battery keeping him alive and all he can think is I deserve this, I did this, I deserve this. Because suddenly he couldn’t forget the blood on his hands and the body count next to his name no matter how hard he tried. He always thought that maybe he was some kind of good guy – or even that he wasn’t bad. But he’d been wrong. Tony Stark was a liar. 

“Oh?” He could have sworn the very word was cold. “What am I then?”

“A thief.”

Now that rang true. What didn’t Loki steal? He stole the tesseract and Clint Barton. He stole lives and he tried to steal the Earth and as annoying as the little shit was, Tony found he couldn’t hate him. Not completely. Because as alike as they were, there was a key difference between liars and thieves. 

Thieves always had a reason when they stole. Sometimes it was simply for the rush of stealing.

Sometimes it was because they had nothing left of their own. 

“Tony Stark.” It’s a dangerous whisper and before he could realize what was happening Tony felt glass against his back. This window wouldn’t break near so easily as the last had – he’d made sure of that – but all the same phantom fingers of terror danced along his spine. Goddammit, the suit. If only he had the suit. “Do you know what I came here for?” the god purred in his ear, eerily smug for all chilliness only moments ago.

“To be a dick and break some more of my stuff?” Never let it be said that he wasn’t an insufferable smartass to the very end.

He felt it before he saw it, an icy pain so cold it burned dark blue streaks in his skin as the magic crept through his veins like a twisted maze from Loki’s iron grip on is wrist. Tony struggled but he was trapped like a fool, like a bug pinned in a collector’s frame, and without his suit. Just a man of flesh and blood in the end, just like the rest of them. 

The glow of his arc reactor faltered when the burning reached it, but flickered back to life glowing even brighter than before.

“Your steel heart won’t save you now, Stark,” Loki assured him with due amount of superiority. “Not from this. Not when you’re halfway there to begin with.”

The magic crawled up his neck and Tony would have screamed if his jaw had let him. Instead he stood frozen as it swept into his brain like a tsunami, taking what was his and twisting it.

“I’ll tell you why I came here, Stark.”

A man who had once been Tony Stark lifted his head and his eyes flashed blue.

“I came here to steal.”


End file.
